Little Bits of Heaven
by lizook
Summary: In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if many roads in the District were closed. Booth, Brennan, and some snow...


**Disclaimer**: Bones doesn't belong to me. If it did, we would've had new episodes weeks ago. Title from Amy Grant's _Christmas Can't Be Very Far Away_, which states: Little bits of heaven/floating gently by the window/soon this dirty city/will be covered in a new snow...

**Spoilers/Timeline**: None/Set in future; Booth and Brennan are in an established relationship.

**A/N**: A huge thanks to my partner in crime, Jess (**CupcakeBean**), for the awesome feedback, suggestions, and support.

* * *

The faint buzz of the alarm jolted Booth awake. He squinted, trying to remember where he needed to be this morning, and realized it was Sunday. He should be pulling himself out of the warm sheets to head to Mass, but - as he reached out to quiet the incessant buzz - a quick glance out the window dispelled the thought. There must be eight new inches of snow on the ground. Coupled with the half a foot that had fallen yesterday and the layer of ice lurking underneath...well, travel would be a nightmare. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if many roads in the District were closed. He burrowed back under the covers, reaching out to wrap his arm around her waist and frowned as all his hand came in contact with was the cool sheets. _When had she gotten up?_ He knew he'd been tired from trying to keep up with Parker in the snow yesterday, but he hadn't realized he was _that _exhausted. He usually at least registered that she wasn't next to him.

Rubbing his eyes, he clambered out of bed and started towards the living room. _Might as well see if she was awake._ He passed Parker's room -_ yep, still out like a light_ - and halted halfway into the room, spotting Brennan sprawled across their couch, laptop perched precariously on her knees. The early morning light catching in her hair, the steadiness of her breath, and her soft sighs created an oddly ethereal effect. Smiling, he set the laptop on the coffee table and pulled the quilt pooled at her feet up over her chest.

He turned on the coffeepot and began searching for his sweatshirt and a heavy pair of socks. No use in trying to go back to sleep now, once he was out of bed that was it; he was up. Sweatshirt and jacket on, he continued the search for his socks. He vaguely remembered throwing them near the door when they'd come in last night, but he was having no luck locating them now. He was about to give up when he spotted one poking out of Brennan's boots. He shook his head and finished getting ready.

The snow slid off the roof of the Tahoe effortlessly and Booth inhaled the cool air, fumbling with his sleeves in attempts to find his watch. He groaned. He'd been out there an hour and a half and only _just _finished clearing a path from the house to their cars. The snow had taken some time to move - fifteen plus inches was no small feat - but the real problem was breaking up the ice. He'd thrown salt down as soon as he exposed the layer, but it only went so far and he ended up using a sledgehammer to break apart some of the larger pieces. Now he was finding similar issues as he tried to clear the cars: the snow was coming right off, but there was a thick crust of ice that wouldn't budge.

He pried open the driver's side door and rooted under the seat until he found the ice scraper. He scraped and scraped, working up a sweat as he attempted to clear the windshield of the Tahoe. _Scraping ice caused him to break into a sweat?! _He wasn't sure if it was a comment on the intensity of the ice or his physical fitness. He was inclined to think it was the latter and resolved to let Bones drag him to her Krav Maga class in the near future.

He wiped his brow. This wasn't one of those nice 'exhausted from a good workout' or 'making love to his gorgeous partner' sweats. It was the gross, cold/clammy sweat that lingered long after physical exertion had ceased. He prayed for some sort of relief.

*Thwap!*

The cold snow hit the only exposed part of his body: his neck.

"Park, that wasn't very nice." He shrugged his shoulders, causing the snow to start sliding down his back. _Careful what you wish for, eh, Seeley? _"Or fair even...." A feminine giggle broke the stillness that followed and he turned to find Brennan standing behind him. She was bundled up enough to be ready for a trip to Antarctica - heavy snow pants, a thick jacket, and his Flyers ski cap taming her auburn tresses - yet her cheeks were still tinged pink, her breath visible in the air. He sighed. _Was she ever not beautiful?_ "Don't you have your own hat?"

"It's still wet from last night." The corner of her mouth turned up. "You don't want me to be cold, do you?"

"Of course not." He threw the ice scraper in the Tahoe and slammed the door shut. "But we were in by four o'clock; it should be dry by now."

"I woke up around three with an idea for _Chilled to the Bone_. I went to write it out before I forgot and saw it was snowing pretty hard again. I don't know what caused me to do so, but I came out and just stood in it for a while."

"Explains my missing socks."

"It seems that you found them."

"Mhmmm." He leaned back against the car. "Did you get your idea written?"

"As much as I could without getting into too much scientifically; I need to double check with Hodgins about the effect of extreme temperatures on the incubation period of blowflies." She laughed at the look of disgust settling on his face.

*Thwap!*

Her eyes flew open in shock as snow hit her right below the chin. Sneaky man; he'd been distracting her!

"Oh, you're _so_ going to pay for that." She bent over, quickly packed the snow together, and sent it sailing in his direction. It bounced off his shoulder as he began sprinting towards the side yard; cleaning off the cars long forgotten.

Another snowball came careening towards her and she grinned at the warmth in his eyes and the huskiness of his voice as he called out,

"I look forward to it."

Game on.


End file.
